Phasmatis
by Psychotic Happiness
Summary: Shadows swirling, writhing, breathing before his eyes. Whispering, screaming, beckoning. They want him...they need him. Something sinister invades the lair, tormenting one poor soul. It won't leave until it has what it came for. "He didn't know he could see spirits. Didn't even know they existed. So, how could he have seen any of this coming?"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here we go, my new story. Now, I have always been fascinated with the paranormal. I love ghost stories, horror movies, all that jazz. So, I decided to try my hand at my own ghost story. And, this just pops into my head, and there you have it. So, please review and tell me what you think, please. It would be mostly appreciated!**

**Oh, and of course Donnie is the main character. But, you probably already knew that. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, you would be watching this, not reading it. **

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"I'm really glad I have you to talk to. You're the only one who actually listens."

Splinter's ears twitched as he picked up the timid voice of his second youngest, drifting through the otherwise silent lair, from where he sat in lotus positon upon the poorly cushioned couch in the center of the living area, watching over the slumbering forms of his other three sons where they had crashed in a tangled heap of arms and legs after a long day of playing. The air felt thicker, a sense of grim apprehension twisted in his gut. He couldn't explain it, this weird feeling, but something was just off. A chill in the air. Perhaps a draft? With brows knit down in slight confusion, he glanced up at the source of where the noise was coming from. Donatello's door was shut, muffling his words, and just barely enough light peaked out from the bottom, indicating that the young turtle was very much awake, instead of in his bed like he should have been, like his father had told him to.

"No, it's just...I don't think they really notice me. They just ignore everything I say. Plus, I don't think they understand half of it."

Splinter sighed to himself as he slowly stood, quietly making his way over to his most intelligent son's room. This had been going on for awhile now. Almost every night the former human would wake up, eyes burning with sleep, to the same thing; the same soft voice, deep in conversation with somebody. At first, Splinter had just assumed that it was one of his brothers that Donatello was speaking to during these late night discussions. But, when he would open the door to chasty his sons about staying up too late, he would find Donatello staring up at him through those big mahogony eyes of his, mouth quirked up in a tiny smile, his son sitting in the middle of the floor...alone.

Now, it was no secret that this particular son was intellectually gifted way beyond his years, having fixed many of the appliances they used daily in their subterranean home at an early age, and he was definitely the most imaginative of his sons, aside from Michelangelo, whose ideas for games of pretend and excited retellings of dreams could make your head spin with the absurdity of it all. So, it did not concern the aged rat when his son began to talk to fictional beings only his eyes could see. He was only 5 years old, young children tended to have imaginary friends, especially one as introverted as Donatello. But, as it progressed, Splinter realized this wasn't normal behavior. The young turtle's discussions were so long and way more educated than the usual 5 year old ramblings. It was like Donatello was in an actual conversation with someone, like someone was actually responding. He was starting to worry.

Splinter cocked his head to the side slightly, ears pointed in the direction of his son's room as he paused in front of the door, his paw hovering over the doorknob. His son's continued "conversation" became clearer and he could hear Donatello let out a sad sigh.

"I wish I could talk to you all the time."

Splinter gently wrapped his knuckles on the large metal door. "My son? May I come in?" He called out to Donatello, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Sure, Sensei." His son answered before quietly whispering to the empty air, "Hold on one second."

The rat pushed his way into the dimly lit room to find his son sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, the same scene as every other time he would catch the turtle doing this. Donatello's eyes shone, the red of his irises overtaking the brown, practically glowing as they always seemed to do when framed by darkness. His mouth upturned into an innocent smile as he peered up at his father.

"Hi, Sensei."

"Hello, my son." Splinter replied distractedly, his mind occupied as he scanned the familiar room, his burnt sienna eyes roaming over shelves of books and the scraps of paper that cluttered the walls and floor, scribbled with ideas and equations and schematics. He searched every corner, for what, he didn't know. He just looked for something, someone, but there was nothing. He wasn't surprised.

He let out a relieved breath, finally turning around to look at the olive green face of his smiling son, curious eyes watching him intently. Allowing a small smile of his own as the nervousness that fluttered in his chest died down momentarily, he sat down in front of his son, mimicking the young mutant's position as he faced him. His smile quickly fell, he wasn't quite sure how to begin, wracking his brain for the proper way to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind for months. That odd feeling was back, like, aside from Donatello, he was not alone in this room, the faint scent of another being tickled his nose, fading in and out, making him question if it was actually there or not. But, how could that be? There was nobody else.

He sighed, calming his mind, helping him think. Focus on the issue at hand. "My son, could you please tell me who you've been talking to at night?"

Splinter watched as his son's face grew red with embarrassment. "You knew?" Donatello asked sheepishly.

The rat nodded. "Yes, I have known for awhile." The young mutant rubbed his arm shyly, casting his gaze down, mentally preparing himself for the verbal lashing that was surely to come. Splinter smiled slightly, his voice full of warmth, not anger. "Do not worry, my son. You are not in trouble, and there is nothing to be embarrassed about." He gently placed his clawed hand on Donatello's green shoulder. "I simply wish to know who you are talking to every night."

Donatello looked up at him, nodding obediantly with a relieved smile on his face. He suddenly trained his eyes on the back corner of the room, where the shadows seemed almost darker, as if trying to hide something from view. "Her." He said simply, pointing to the corner.

Splinter squinted at the empty spot his son pointed, confused by his response. "Who?" An uneasy feeling started to come over him.

Donnie stood from his seated position, facing his Sensei as he continued to point at the same spot. "Her." He turned his body to the corner, a smile on his face as he waved for whoever, or whatever, it was to come over to them. "Come say hi, Shen-Shen."

Splinter froze. A painful sadness, that he had been trying to overcome, clenched his heart. His head spun. Shen-Shen? No, it couldn't be...

"W-what did you say?" He asked in shock, eyes wide, filled with fear and denial. He tried to wrap his mind around it, tried to quell the emotions running rampant inside him, like a storm disturbing the calm sea. He stood, towering over his son, his voice taking a strange tone to it, almost angry. "What did you call her?"

Donatello grew quiet, puzzled by his father's reaction. "Shen-Shen." He mumbled quietly. He didn't like that look in his Sensei's eyes.

Splinter's head snapped towards his son. Crouching down next to him, he grabbed the tot by the shoulders, making Donatello wince as he squeezed with more force than he meant to. "Where did you hear that name? Who told you?" He practically shouted in the turtle's face, his voice stern, hard. He had never told any of his sons of his late wife and daughter, never uttered a word of the tragedy that had befallen his first family. How could this son possibly know his deceased wife's name? His mind was clouded with fear, yet, he did not fully understand why. "Who?!"

The purple banded turtle's eyes sprung with tears, features becoming fearful. "S-she did." He whispered, voice trembling.

Splinter stared at Donatello with shock on his face. Tears glistened in his eyes, images of fire, of death and destruction replaying in his mind. Screaming, pain, loss. "I-I'm sorry." He heard his son's frightened voice apologize.

The rat master suddenly straightened up, facing the corner as he stood protectively in front of his quivering son. He had never seen a spirit before, but there was no doubt in his mind that they existed. Lost souls that drifted between worlds, bordering on different states existence. Wisps of air, invisible to their eyes, floating all around them, in the back of their minds, filling their dreams with death, with nightmares. They hid under childrens' beds, in their closets, scaring young ones into their parents' rooms, finding safety under their covers. Some were good, most were evil. Demons. Monsters. Things nobody should mess with. It was unnatural...dangerous to be around them. They tried to get inside you, tried to suck out your soul. Yes, he believed in ghosts, he knew them to be real. But, his wife was not one of them. Couldn't be. She no longer suffered the hardships of this world, she was at peace. This thing...this imposter was not the woman he loved. It was trying to get to his son, hurt him. He could smell it in the air, feel it in his gut.

His eyes narrowed at the shadows of the corner. "Whoever or whatever you are, you stay away from my son!" Splinter shouted, his voice rising in anger. He was scared. Scared for his son.

"Sensei?" Donatello asked quietly, looking up to the hurt face of Tang Shen. He didn't understand. Why was his father yelling at his friend if he had a picture of her?

Splinter ignored him. "Get out of my home! Stay away from my son!" He continued to shout. He was in denial, still pained with the fresh memory of loss. It couldn't be her. This was not his beloved Tang Shen.

"Sensei, stop!" Donnie pleaded, reaching out to the tall rat. He watched as Tang Shen started to disappear, fading into the darkness, her sad face growing dimmer and dimmer. He reached his three fingered hand out to her, his eyes wide with fright, despair seizing him. "No! Shen-Shen, wait!"

Splinter scooped his son into his arms, slowly backing towards the door as his son struggled against his grip, trying with all his might to get free, to get to his friend. Tears poured down his face, staring at the seemingly empty corner. "No! Please don't go! Please!" He sobbed, his voice anguished as he watched her leave, knowing she wasn't coming back.

Tang Shen waved to him sadly, tears glistening in her loving eyes, making tracks down her cheeks. This was goodbye. Her form disappeared completely, she was gone. The young turtle's wails echoed through the underground home.

Donatello never saw Shen-Shen again. In a short time, he completely forgot about his "imaginary" friend. Splinter made sure of that. He used a special technique he learned from his days in Japan. An unusual form of meditation mixed with hypnosis, making someone forget, erasing certain memories. And, he used it on the same son after his next friend. And, the time after that. And, the time after that. All through the years until, eventually, they stopped as he got older. Donatello never remembered any of them. He didn't know he could see spirits. Didn't even know they existed. So, how could he have seen any of this coming?

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**Okay, well there we go. Tell me what you think, pretty please. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, this entire month has been extremely busy for me. Seriously, just one thing after another. That's why it took a while to update, but then I finally got done writing this chapter and was going to post it last Friday, but then the site messed up and wouldn't let me. So, I had to wait longer! Ugh. But, it's here now. So, enjoy! And, please review! My motivation requires sustenance!**

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The tails of his bandana whipped at the air near his head, carried by the midnight breeze from where he stood atop the dark rooftop of a rundown apartment complex. The windows were boarded up, the wood rotten and soft from the years of rain and snow, exposed to the outside. The bricks were battered and cracked, covered with faded spray paintings and moss. Untamed vines of the freely growing vegetation snaked its way up the side of the building, twisting and curling, green tentacles gripping onto the stone all the way to the top where he stood, stopping just before his feet, like a hungry monster slowly swallowing the whole structure. This was a bad part of town, all the buildings looked the same across the forgotten neighborhood. Unkept, unloved, decayed, abandoned, the same image mirrored over and over again among the rows of stone and metal. There were countless reports of crimes in this part of town. Robberies, vandalism...murder. But, tonight there was no one. Not a soul in sight.

The steady rhythm of his beating heart echoed in his ears as he stared at the depressing scene before him. He could hear his brothers bickering behind him, their voices sounding as if from a great distance, muffled as he focused of the pounding of his heart, the strange feeling that creeped up his chest. A feeling he was all too familiar with, one that he had experienced all throughout his childhood. He couldn't explain it. It was frightening, yet exciting. He could feel himself start to sweat, though his skin was cold to the touch. His pulse was faster, stronger, like the beat of a drum, it throbbed in his head, his stomach, everywhere. His hands shook with nervous energy, his legs tingled with the need to run as this anxiousness swelled in his lungs, threatening to burst out. As if something were about to happen, just waiting for him around the corner. Something great, something scary, just something.

Laughter sounded from down the street, echoing loudly in the silence of the abandoned neighborhood as two shadows stretched down the road. Two humans, a boy and a girl, came into view and the nervous turtle released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. They were both dressed up, most likely walking home after some special occasion. The couple talked to each other excitedly, laughing at what the other said, looking perfectly content with one another. He stared at the two with large eyes, transfixed by their movements and the pure happiness that played on their faces, shining in their eyes, reverberating in their voices. A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he watched them stroll down the sidewalk towards a nearby alley. He didn't know why, but watching these two ordinary characters made the strange feeling inside him grow, pulsating in his chest, blending with their infectious joy that bubbled in his stomach. He didn't want to take his eyes off them.

"Donnie, come on. We're leaving."

Donatello shook himself of his trance like state at the sound of his eldest brother's voice. He turned to see his three brothers jumping to the adjacent rooftop, flipping over vents and exposed piping. The anxiousness had subsided somewhat. He could still feel it there, an extra kick of adrenaline, but it was much more tolerable now, making his heart slow down and his breathing return to normal. He glanced at the humans below one last time, their shadowy forms getting ready to turn down the darkened alley, before rushing off to catch up with the others.

The turtle didn't see as the couple made their way into the alley, their bloody backs retreating into the shadows. Their laughter echoed down the street as red dripped from their broken skulls.

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The feeling of the abandoned warehouse that stood before them was...ominous, at best. The building loomed overhead, casting their bodies in its inky black shadow. Why anybody would want to spend even a moment in there, they had no clue. The jagged edges of shattered windows made it look almost as if it were glaring down at them. The door was wide open with fragments of splintered wood jutting out like teeth, like a hungry beast inviting them into its awaiting mouth, the myriad of creaks and moans from inside sounding similar to that of an empty stomach. The thought made them shiver.

The night had started out normally, just another routine patrol around the city, that is until an overheard conversation from two dimwitted purple dragons led them to this desolate structure. Apparently, the Kraang was keeping some heavy artillery there, weapons of mass destruction and advanced technology that could potentially wipe out the entire human race. Just the usual.

But, why here?

The question plagued Donatello's mind. Because it's on the outskirts of town? Because this is the last place they would ever look? That wasn't usually the Kraang's style. The purple banded turtle felt uneasy about the whole thing. He didn't like the sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of a thousand eyes on him, how the shadows darted away from his gaze. The nervous energy was back, his hands trembled with it. He didn't know why, but this didn't feel like any other mission. He just couldn't shake this sense of impending doom.

"Dudes, this is creepy." Michelangelo piped up, cowering in the gaze of the dark building as he stared up at it. "Why couldn't we have staked out a pizza joint or something?"

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Mikey. It's just a building." Raphael rolled his eyes, the tough guy act faltering when he quickly looked away from the starring windows. He would never admit it out loud, but even he was getting a little freaked out by this place. The way the moonlight hit the structure, casting an eerie glow about it, just added to the ghostly feeling. Just throw in a guy with an axe and you had the perfect horror movie.

"It won't take long." Leo said, taking a step closer. "We'll just confirm what we know, and get out. We can come back when we have a better idea of what the Kraang are planning. Come on." Leo unsheathed he katana as he guided he brothers to the entrance.

Donatello had only been half-listening to their conversation, his mind wandering elsewhere. The feeling grew ever stronger, settling uncomfortably in his chest. Thoughts swirled around in his brain as he focused on the darkness of the warehouse. The inky blackness covering the walls and floors, almost as if concealing something, trying to hide what awaits them. He swore he could see movement behind the wall of shadows, faint wisps of something that disappeared in an instant. It made the horrible feelings inside him grow, the uncontrollable sense of foreboding leaving him feeling queasy.

"You coming, Brainiac?" Raph whispered loudly, the sound of one of his brother's voices shaking the genius of his silent trance for the second time that night.

Gulping down his unexplainable fear, Donnie forced his legs to move over to his awaiting brothers. Was it his imagination? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He didn't thinks so. And, these feelings weren't going away. He didn't know why, but he just knew.

Something bad was going to happen.

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**I am really enjoying writing this! I love ghost stories!**

**So, tell me what you think. Any suggestions for future events? Something particularly scary you'd like to see happen? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, yeah. It seems like I spend a lot of time apologizing on here, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'm very sorry for not updating sooner. My days have been mainly focused on my extremely tedious job that involves a lot of physical activity that I, a scrawny introvert, am not at all used to. That coupled with a long, and ever growing, list of crap I'm supposed to do, and then add on a touch of writer's block and you get an extended waiting period for updates. Sorry about that. **

**I was actually going to wait to post this because I kind of wanted to see what would happen in the series first. Do they meet Irma? Does Karai join them? But, then inspiration struck, and I was like: Meh, what the heck. So, here you are. Tell me what you think.**

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When the strange metallic creatures first arrived, it didn't know what to make of them. They were different from other beings it had observed. Their shiny metal exteriors were alight with various buttons and mechanisms it did not recognize to be part of any technological devices the humans had in their possession. The skeletal frames of these...creatures housed yet even stranger pink brain-like squids within their chests, whom spoke strictly in squeaks and squeals to one another as they moved about its home. It silently watched as they moved other machines, these one quite larger with an air of destruction and war, to and from the abandoned warehouse. They were fascinating.

For years it had resided in the desolate darkness of the empty structure. Alone in the deathly silence with no visitors to keep it company in ages. Drifting as if in a void. Isolated. Hungry. It had been lying in wait for the next poor soul to walk through those doors, its new toy to play with, to torture, to help feed its unquenchable desire. This place of nightmares was not just its home, this was its palace, its kingdom. The moans of its unfortunate victims were the cheers from its adoring citizens. This place where it sought out its next meal, watching their sanity get ripped away, the light leave their eyes as death knocked on their doors. The feeling of their heart eventually stopping beneath its icy fingers. Their minds were like the arenas to its games for which it was an expert. The timer ticked on as it watched them struggle to hold onto their own thoughts, feeling their terror as they eventually and inevitably lost. It revelled in that feeling.

But, these beings were not like the humans. Its attempts to get the attention of the robotic men went unnoticed. It tried little things at first. Thumps, footsteps, moaning. It even resorted to showing itself a few times. Things that would leave anyone else cowering in fright as they begged and cried, and these things did not bat a mechanical eye. It was both fascinating and frustrating. Perhaps it should try a new method. Wait.

It froze as the air shifted with the presence of others. Four figures hidden by darkness quietly snuck into the decaying building. It watched them as they expertly flipped over varying obstacles, winding through the labyrinth of crates and machinery. The metal men did not yet notice the new comers as they jumped from shadow to shadow, silently incapacitating the measly trespassers, nearly invisible to all. Except it. It could see everything.

Hmmm...what were these strange beings? Obviously they were not human, though they seemed to be more so than the robotic men. Their green skin glistened with sweat as they exposed themselves to the other inhuman creatures, their battle cries coupled with the resounding blasts of mechanical weapons as the battle began, the shells that dominated their backs acting as armour as they dodged the fluorescent beams of pink light. It took pleasure in watching the fight, a sickening grin creeping up onto its face with the unexpected images of long forgotten experiences, fading memories of a past life, of death, the thrill of war, of the blood of enemies staining your clothes, your skin, your teeth. A wicked sense of satisfaction, bones crushing beneath your feet, tormenting, killing. Images are disappearing. They're leaving. What was it thinking about? It's already forgotten. They're gone. Oh well. It doesn't matter.

The green creatures are clearly trained warriors, that much is plain to see. It could now see the colored masks that adorned their faces. Blue, red, purple, and orange. It observed each one intensely, taking in every detail. Blue appeared to be the leader of the small group, the confidence was apparent in the firm way he held himself, the clear and strong tone of his voice as he barked out orders to the others making it obvious he was determined to win. A good candidate. Red jumped blindly into the fray, his moves focused on force instead of strategy, he was powerful, fueled by rage with an air of rebellion. Another strong choice. Orange was talkative, cracking jokes and insults as he fought, he was goofy, and happy, but with pure athletic skill that was not weakened at all by his naiveté. Hmmm...he would certainly be fun to torment. But, no. None of them are the one it wanted. It wanted purple.

From the beginning it was immediately drawn to the purple masked one. It could not explain this hypnotic aura that surrounded the olive skinned being. He was the tallest of the four, what it now realizes, brothers. Though he was the slimmest, he fought with a grace and precision of a deadly opponent, matching the skills of his siblings and aiding them where he was needed as they worked together. His eyes sparkled with a light of great intelligence, quickly scanning over the battlefield as he calculated the moves of his enemies, and spinning his weapon with the quick and nimble fingers of that of a surgeon. He seemed calm and peaceful, he was quiet, gentle. But, there was something else. Something different about him.

He seemed especially wary of their surroundings, hesitant to be there. He was tense, like he would rather be anywhere else rather than here, yet the others felt nothing wrong. But, it didn't want him to leave. It was odd, and nothing that it had happened before, but it was almost like he knew it was there. As it moved around, it could see the purple masked terrapin dart his head in its direction, searching for something he thought for sure was there, only to quickly look away again. It was as if he knew there was something, could see and feel something, but didn't know what it was, like he was searching but couldn't find it. Interesting.

It chuckled darkly to itself, the action bringing with it the stench of rotting flesh, the chilling sound sending cold icy fear into the hearts of its previous victims and earning it the delightful, tormented applause of its people. It had found its new, perfect play thing. And, this one, was going to get very, very special treatment.

This was going to be fun.

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"The ones that are known as turtles will not be leaving the place that is known as here."

The pink lasers flew all throughout the wooden structure, whizzing by their heads as they ducked and dodged. The turtle brothers flipped over mechanical heads, fighting through the wreckage of robotic bodies with focus firmly of destroying the alien villains. Except one. Donatello had become distracted as he fought, his mind wandering with the strange feeling that refused to leave him. What was it? It was crazy, but it was like something was watching him. He could see shadows moving, darting back and forth just at the edge of his vision. And, was that chuckling?

He shook his head. Snap out of it! He was just freaking himself out. It was just the atmosphere of the creepy building they were in messing with his brain. He was not seeing shadows of people hiding around corners. He was not hearing laughter. He was just tired. One too many all-nighters in lab and a devastating shortage on the coffee supply was bound to have some repercussions. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Maybe he should ask Splinter about getting some sleeping pills.

"Hey, Brainiac! Get your head in the game!" Raphael's voice broke through his jumbled thoughts and he looked up just in time to see a gun pointed at his head. He quickly ducked out of the way, delivering a hard blow to the unfortunate Kraang's chest, before joining his brothers in the middle of the warehouse. They all looked relatively unhurt with the exception of a few minor scrapes, and the body count of inactive droids continued to pile up. Looks like they're gonna win this one. But, something seemed wrong.

"Raph! I can't believe you went against my orders! Again!" Leo shouted at the hot headed turtle. "I told you we were just here to observe them, not engage them!" Donatello sighed. Not this again.

"Get over it, Fearless! We're winning aren't we!"Raph retorted, thrusting his sai into the head of an oncoming Kraang for emphasis.

That was the problem. How could they be winning this easily? Something wasn't right.

"Guys! Do you hear, like, beeping?" Mikey asked as he paused in his movements. Everybody followed suit, stopping the battle as they all listened closely. And, sure enough, there it was. A very faint sound starting out, but getting progressively louder as it increased in speed. They were all more than familiar with that particular noise. Uh oh.

"Run!"

The four turtles rushed toward the exit of the building, their legs carrying them as fast they could possibly go. But, before they could reach the door, a deafening boom went off behind them, and, suddenly, they were all pitching forward, flying through the air with the force of the explosion. They lost all sense of direction as they landed, dazed, in the streets of New York, the glow of the flames lighting up their immobile bodies. Their limbs scraped against the concrete, they were battered, bruised, and they were going to be sore for awhile. But, at least they were alive.

Donatello's head throbbed terribly, making him groan in pain. He'd made a bad landing, ending with his skull cracking on the pavement. He was aware of the blood oozing from a gash on the back of his head, quickly becoming a puddle on the concrete beneath him, and he knew he most likely had a concussion, though he couldn't care at the moment seeing as he couldn't get the world to stop spinning nor even remember what exactly happened to get him in this painful position.

As he lay with his face smushed into the jagged gravel of the street, he could see the darkness creeping into the edges of his vision, he was nauseous, light headed, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was passing out. But, this darkness, it was different. It seemed malevolent, like the tentacles of squid pulling him under. That strange feeling was back, stronger than ever. He could feel something, something evil, slithering into his mind, settling over him, crawling in his brain. He was defenseless to do anything. He couldn't do anything. It was going to leave. He was so sleepy, it was dragging him in, into darkness, into nothingness. He couldn't fight it. No.

_Yessss._

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**Please comment. It boosts my confidence and my drive to finish this story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers! I'm not sure how I feel about this particular chapter. It took me awhile to figure out how I wanted to write it, but I still feel like I could have done it better. I don't know. I'm pretty self-critical. So, you be the judge and jury for me. Tell me what you think, how I can improve, suggestions, yadda yadda yadda. And, thank you to all who support me and my writings. It warms my heart to see you all enjoying my stories so much, and I appreciate your patience with me and my slow updates. **

**And, I would especially appreciate your reviews! Keep 'em coming!**

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Darkness. That was the first thing he noticed as his heavy eyelids struggled to open. It surrounded him completely. Pitch black. Like he was floating in an endless void. Nothing, but impenetrable, choking darkness. His chest tightened with the intake of stale air. The thick fog enveloped his torso, squeezing him like the prey of a hungry python, chilling his throat as he forced it into his lungs. Bringing one green fist up to his mouth, he attempted to smother an oncoming cough as he choked on the vile atmosphere.

His irises darted about the emptiness, his heavy breathing becoming somewhat manageable as he grew more consciously aware. The last traces of sleep vanished. He needed to clear his head. Assess the situation, and try to find a way out of here. But, where was here? It appeared as if he were nowhere. Yet, he could feel the ground beneath his shell, the subtle movement of his bandana tails being carried on the faint breeze that seemingly came from no particular direction, but came from everywhere at once. He pushed himself up onto shaky legs. He could feel the fear creeping in making his brow sweat, his hands twitch, and shoulders tremble. He shook his head.

No. There was no use in panicking. Keep a cool head. Focus.

His eyes slid closed, and he took a calming breath. He opened them as he forced his reluctant legs to trudge forward. The inky darkness seemed to stretch on endlessly before him. His footsteps made no sound. There was no sound to reach his ears, but that of his own heartbeat. He had read somewhere, though he could not recall where exactly, that when faced with absolute silence the brain makes up for it with the constant internal noises of your own body. The thump, thump, thump of your heart. The moans of your stomach. That the brain cannot fully comprehend complete silence, and that without sound you would lose your very sanity. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"Donateeeeeellooooooooooo..." His body froze, eyes growing in size as the sing-song, whisper of a voice permeated the stillness. He held his breath, heart picking up pace, pounding in his chest painfully. He dared not move a muscle, fear overriding his other senses as he waited.

"Donat_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_llooooooooo..."

The purple banded turtle spun around, searching for the source of the disturbing voice. His breathing quickened. The air had grown colder around him, involuntary shivering taking hold of his icy limbs, the chilly breeze stinging his skin. He jerked his head from side to side frantically. He could feel eyes on him, someone, something watching him. He felt the sudden urge to protect himself, a need for his staff to be in his hands, but the familiar weight of the beloved weapon was gone from his back. There was nothing to be used as cover, nothing to hide behind. He was out in the open, exposed. But, nothing happened.

He tried to calm his racing heart, to look past the panic and fear that clouded his mind. Puffs of white escaped from his mouth, an indication to the quickly dropping temperature, swirling in front of his paling face before evaporating to join the black that made up the terrifying emptiness.

Movement to his right caught his attention, a faint wisp of white fluttering on the edge of his vision, making his breath hitch. He clenched his eyes shut, his body going stiff. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see it. It was something bad, he could feel it. Slowly, fearfully he turned his body. His pulse slammed against his temples as he forced reluctant eyes to open, a gasp escaping his dry lips upon seeing it. A figure standing before him. A woman. His stomach twisted, his red eyes scanning over her features.

She was beautiful. Her long black hair fell elegantly across her thin shoulders, descending in shadowy waves down her back, stopping just above her hips. She was clad completely in white. A dress, plain, but beautiful in its modest grace, hugged her thin frame, bouncing off her curved hips to cascade down her long legs till it gathered on the ground. The sleeves were long, clinging to her slight arms and hooking around her thumbs. Her lips were bright red, contrasting sharply with her fair skin. Though he could not see her eyes, he could feel her watching him through her long bangs that hid them from view, and framed her pale face perfectly. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word. He found himself entranced, unable to take his eyes off of her. Like a black widow, she had trapped him in her web, and he did not care in the slightest. The way her hair swirled, back and forth in the nonexistent wind, was hypnotic. It was haunting.

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a sultry, almost teasing, grin. Before he could even blink she was gone, faded into the background of the yawning void. In her place, he found himself staring into the monstrous smile that seemed to belong to the darkness itself. Its jagged teeth glowed in the surrounding black. Donatello's eyes were wide, his heart slamming against his ribs as his breaths came in quick, short gasps. Panic seized him, he tried to run, to force his trembling legs to move, but he was rooted to his spot. Frozen in fear. He wanted to scream, but his lungs burned, constrained in his chest. He could do nothing as four red, glowing eyes opened up from the darkness, staring at his cowering form in wicked, horrifying amusement.

The smell of rotting flesh penetrated the air, instantly making him gag on the putrid stench. He choked, struggling suck in a breath. The darkness squeezed him, suffocating him as it closed in, gripping him tightly. The shadows swirled around him. Twisting. Morphing. They were stretching, becoming more. It was darker than black. More terrifying than fear itself. This was hell.

The inky tendrils slithered up his legs, wrapping around his limbs. Tentacles encasing his torso from the depths of the endless sea. He struggled futilely against their painful grips. They were dragging him further and further down. Down into the dark. Closer to the mouth of the beast. His eyes glistened, uncontrollable whimpers escaped him. He was beyond terrified. It opened its mouth, as if to swallow him whole. A deep, growling, guttural voice boomed around him, echoing off the walls of shadows, echoing down into his mind, striking pure horror into his very soul. This was the epitome of evil.

"You're mine!"

Black encompassed him, dragging him into the chasm of teeth before him. He managed to suck in a breath, finding his voice. And, before his tragic death, before he was lost to the abyss, his voice joining in the chorus of the tortured moans of the eternal darkness, he let out a blood curdling scream.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

His body bolted upright into a sitting position as he awoke with a sharp gasp, eyes wide with the sheen of unshed tears. The blurry scenery of his familiar darkened room swam into his vision, though, his clouded mind could not yet comprehend this. His breathing was rapid, panicked, matching the racing of his heart. His body trembled, sweat shimmering on his pale skin as he tried to look past the horrifying images that replayed themselves unbidden in his panic induced brain, and get back to reality.

The last fog of unconsciousness having finally retreated to the recesses of his mind, he attempted to calm his heavy breathing, slowing down his pulse to a normal level. It wasn't real. It was just a dream.

No, not a dream. A nightmare.

"Donnie?"

He jumped, eyes shooting in the direction the voice had come from, and landing on the form of his eldest brother reaching his hand up to the wall. The blue masked turtle's action was lost to Donatello as he was momentarily blinded by the light being flicked on.

"Ugh, warn a guy next time, will you?" He moaned, the throbbing in his skull signifying an oncoming migraine. He looked up into the comforting smile of his brother, now seated in a chair at his bedside, breath hitching as he realized he was actually only seeing through one eye. Fearing he had gone partially blind, he scrubbed one hand on the left side of his face. A majority of his head had been wrapped tightly in bandages, completely covering his left eye and part of his cheek. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't blind.

He must have been banged up pretty good, though.

"How are you feeling?" Leo asked, concern lacing his tone.

Donnie sighed, relaxing his body into the mattress beneath him. "I'm fine. My head hurts like the devil, but I'm good." He directed his one eyed gaze to his worrisome brother, questions battling to the forefront of his thoughts, demanding to be answered. "What, um..." He stumbled on his words, dizziness making it hard to think straight. "What happened exactly?"

Leo didn't miss a beat. "We investigated that warehouse April told us about." He stated, sitting up straighter as he went into 'leader-mode'. "She was right, the place was crawling with Kraang. We think they were using it as an armory of sorts for some of their more destructive weaponry. Though, we didn't get to see much before they decided to blow the place up." He finished with a sigh, looking over to his confused brother.

"How come I don't remember any of that?"

Leo reached a hand out, gently gliding his thumb over the stark white bandages that wrapped around his little brother's face. He sighed. "You hit your head pretty hard on the landing. When Raph, Mikey, and I came to, you were unconscious. Your head was lying in a puddle of blood." He shivered, recalling the terrifying image. He cleared his throat. "We, um...We brought you back to the lair, and tried to wake you up. But, you didn't." His leg bounced with the nervous energy that had been pent up inside of him for the pass few, agonizing hours. He let out a humorless chuckle. "Heh. I'm not gonna lie. It was...it was pretty scary."

His attention was brought to his bouncing knee where a three fingered hand was giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked up into the eye of the intelligent turtle, his lips turned up into a sympathetic smile as he leaned backwards into his pillows. He returned the gesture with a small, tired smile of his own, before reaching up, and tracing the outline of where his little brother's left eye would be. He let out another chuckle. "You managed to scratch your face up pretty good, too, I might add."

He gasped overdramatically as he stared in false horror at his big brother. "D-does this mean I'm not as handsome as I was before?" He asked, his voice mimicking sheer terror at the discovery, and Leo couldn't help the hearty laughs that escaped him at his brother's antics.

Donatello brought his arms up to shield his face. "Don't look upon me! I'm...I'm almost as ugly as Raph!" He cried, throwing his arms up into the air as if yelling to the heavens.

"Hey! You'd be lucky to have a face as handsome as mine, Brainiac!" Raph's figure appeared in the doorway, pretending to be angry, though, he could not deny the smirk that adorned his face. "It's Mikey you should worry about looking like." The short tempered turtle stated, jabbing his thumb at said turtle who stood directly behind him.

"Hey!" The youngest shouted indignantly, sticking his tongue out at the group of laughing older brothers.

They continued to poke fun at each other, taking joy in the presence of their previously comatose brother. But, even as he laughed alongside them, Donatello couldn't help but feel that something was off. An unsettling sinking feeling had arisen inside of him. It was similar to that of what he felt inside the warehouse, and it sent a shiver down his spine. Had it always been that cold in here?

"Donatello?"

The deep voice of his Sensei shook him of his silent reverie. The rat master looked upon him with a loving smile, filled with gratitude that his son had awakened. Donatello happily returned the gesture. "Hi, Sensei."

Master Splinter strolled over to the side of Donnie's bed, placing one clawed hand on his green shoulder. "I am very glad you decided to return to us, my son." He stated, crouching down to the turtle's eye level.

"Yeah, dude!" Michelangelo's cheerful voice sprung forth, commanding everyone's attention. "You've been out for, like, hours!"

He smiled at his only little brother, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry for worrying you guys so much." He stated sincerely. The unusually icy air hit him once again, making his skin sting under its touch. He could not stop the deep shiver that rocked his frame uncontrollably as he rubbed his arms in vain to try and get some semblance of warmth back into his limbs. Why was it so cold in there?

"Are you alright my son?" His father asked, concern etched into his fur covered face.

He let out a shaky breath, closing his eye as another wave of uneasiness came over him. This weird feeling was almost overwhelming. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just...chilly, I guess." He shook his head, eliciting more painful throbbing to pound in his skull.

The aged rat stroked the longer piece of fur that hung from his chin, acting as a beard, as he hummed in thought. "Hmmm. It has gotten quite a bit colder in the lair as of late." He stated, peering down at the young genius. "Perhaps the heaters are broken again."

"I could fix them real quick..." Donatello began to say, getting interrupted by a chorus of his family's voices.

"No!" They all sternly shouted simultaneously, making Donnie flinch with a small grin plastered on his face. He had been expecting that answer. It was always the same. Any time he would get sick or injured he would insist upon going about his usual routine of tinkering and fixing anything broken, which was almost a daily occurence in the Hamato household. And, every time his family would shoot down his offers, and he go so far as to literally drag him back to bed on the times he had managed to escape to his lab. He couldn't help but smile at the caring nature his family had for him.

"Right now, my son" Master Splinter began, leaning over to rub his injured head gently. "You must rest." He pushed Donnie back down into the cushions of his bed, before walking to door as he ushered the rest of his sons out of the room, and turning off the light.

"I don't suppose I could get some Aspirin, as well, huh?" The rat turned around at the voice of his second youngest, chuckling lightly at the cheeky grin aimed towards him. He reached a paw out, grasping the edge of the door as he began to pull it shut.

"I will get you some later once you've tried to sleep." The purple banded turtle nodded to his Sensei, watching him as he exited the room, and he was cast in darkness once more. He laid his head back with a weary sigh. Truth be told, he didn't want to sleep. Not after...that.

He turned over to his side, facing the rest of his room. He was being stupid. It was just a dream, nothing more, nothing less. But, the sickening feeling curled in his stomach all the same. He slid his eye shut, attempting to ignore the swarm of bees inside his head, and the cold stone inside his gut. Eventually, the grip of sleep pulled him under once again, his body relaxing as he fell into a needed, though uneasy, slumber.

He didn't see as the shadows around him darkened, creeping ever closer to his unsuspecting form.

* * *

**Okay, so I don't know when I'll be able to update next. The only reason I was able to post this chapter is because I've had a little time off from work, but that will be ending soon, which sucks. So, I apologize in advance if I end up taking an abnormally large amount of time to put up the next chapter. But, I will find a way to get it up as soon as possible. Thank you. Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but I did warn you. I've been a little busy, and now school is starting soon, but I will try to update as frequently as I can. So, without further ado, here is chapter 5. I'm fairly proud of this chapter. I think I did alright, but tell what you think. Criticism is always welcome, but flattery will get you everywhere. So, please review! And, please give me some suggestions for future events.**

* * *

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He could feel his rapid heartbeat drumming painfully against his plastron, booming loudly in his ears as it seemed to unconsciously beat in tune with the various beeps and whirs of the plethora of trinkets and gadgets he kept in stock in his, otherwise, silent bedroom. It made him imagine his heart as if it were one of the inventions that littered the shelves upon his walls, a mechanized pump meant to keep the entire machine running, the circuitry straining, and gears clacking against each other as they struggled to keep up with the panic induced pounding at which his heart travelled at that moment.

He attempted to calm his heavy breathing, sucking in the oxygen through trembling lips as he sat, shaking, in his bed. The sheen of sweat was clearly visible on his olive green skin, soaking into the bandages that still concealed a majority of his face. He brought his large hands up, scrubbing them over his face, before he reached down to untangle the mess of blankets that had twisted around his legs. He only hoped he didn't wake everyone with his shouting.

It had only been a couple of days since the incident in the warehouse. His injuries were healing up nicely, the gauze that wound around his left eye and cheek were supposed to come off soon, which he was thankful for. Frankly, he was tired of all the pirate jokes that came from his most annoying of brothers. But, other than that, it seemed like everything was going back to normal, or as normal as it gets with a family of mutants. And, then, the nightmares had started.

It was the same thing every night. He would go to bed after an intake of painkillers, and a sleeping pill (courtesy of Splinter), and fall asleep relatively quickly. As he drifted into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness, he would then be assaulted by horrible images that terrified him to his core, jolting him awake in a pool of his own sweat, immediately covering his mouth to muffle the screams that erupted from his throat, his skin pale and heart pounding so loudly that, surely, even the humans above could hear it. That sinking, dreadful feeling would make its way into his stomach once again as he replayed the nightmare in his head, only to realize, with a start, that he could not recall the entire dream. Only bits and pieces remained, all of them very vague and blurry, but he could still feel it. That unexplainable terror that coursed through him in his dream, the dread and sorrow. It was enough to leave him sick, emotionally drained, and exhausted.

He really needed some coffee.

Ignoring the growing sense of vertigo, Donatello pushed himself out of bed. He smiled slightly at the resounding pop of his joints as he stretched, and then made his way over to the door. It was still pretty early in the morning, the lair was mostly silent, save for the faint dinging of the arcade games. The purple banded turtle quietly snuck to the kitchen, knowing he was sure to get an earful if he were caught out of bed at this hour, and began the meticulous process of brewing the heavenly beverage. He went through the motions as if on auto-pilot, quickly preparing his morning fix, and reaching for his favorite purple mug. April had gotten it for him on a whim. Granted, it was just one of those cheap little 'do-it-yourself' mugs that you could buy at any arts and crafts shop, but he cherished it nonetheless. His eye travelled over the gift, thumb smoothing over the red painted text that adorned the side.

"Einstein in a Half-Shell." He smiled at it lovingly.

A shiver unexpectedly ran down his spine, almost making him drop the precious gift. The temperature seemed to drop drastically. He groaned, suddenly becoming dizzy, his stomach twisting as a wave of nausea hit him, the overwhelming sensation nearly bringing him crashing to his knees had he not gripped the counter for support. And, in an instant, it was gone. He brought his hand up to rest on his head as it subsided. That was weird.

He remained still for a moment, fearing that movement would cause another unwanted dizzy spell, before releasing a long withering breath as he stood straighter. What the heck was that? Chalking it up to lack of sleep, and just an effect of his previous head injury, he turned back to the coffee machine, attempting to ignore sickly feeling in his gut. As he reached out to grab ahold of the coffee pot, he froze. His breath hitched, eyes widening in fright, stomach flipping painfully, as his senses heightened with an extra boost of adrenaline. Someone was behind him.

This wasn't one of his family members, they had all learned how to sense each others presence, and he had always been the best at knowing which brother was trying to sneak up behind him, or if any of his loved ones were in the same general vicinity as himself. This was not someone he knew. His hands trembled as the tingling sensation of icy cold breath came into contact with his exposed neck, sounding like a soft hiss in his ears, and making his muscles go rigid. He gulped, trying to get passed the lump in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides, preparing to defend himself, as he slowly craned his neck to look behind him.

No one was there.

The soft breathing was now gone, vanishing into the eerie silence that descended upon the subterranean home. He stared out into the darkened living room, powerful trembles wracking his slim frame, feeling as though something stared back. A thousand eyes watching his every move. Every twitch, every breath. Just waiting for him to ignorantly turn his shell so as to dig jagged claws into green flesh, latching onto his quivering form while he cried piteously for help as they drug him further and further into the unforgiving abyss, never to be heard from again.

He shook his head sharply, interrupting the disturbing thoughts. He was being ridiculous, letting his imagination get the best of him. Nothing, but tricks of the mind. The consistent stream of uneasiness, alone, could be attributed to the effects of head trauma, and a recent on setting of exhaustion. While, he had always been open-minded to the unexplained (when you live your whole life in a family of mutants, how could you not?), he was first and foremost a turtle of science and facts. He had to look at this from a logical standpoint. He was still recovering, he was still sore, and weak. But, mostly, he was tired.

Very, very tired.

"Donatello?"

He jumped, heart leaping into his throat. Still slightly dazed from his earlier encounter, the purple-banded turtle bumped his shell into the counter as he snapped his head up. Standing in the curtained entrance was Master Splinter, hands resting on his cane as he stared at his son in concern. Body relaxing, Donnie let out a sigh of relief, feeling rather embarrassed that he was so easily surprised by his father.

Some ninja.

"Sensei." He breathed, hand clutching his chest as he attempted to calm his racing heart. He chuckled nervously. "You startled me."

The aged rat looked around the poorly lit kitchen, taking into account the steaming coffee machine resting behind his son's back. He gave the turtle a stern look, noticing the darkness that circled around his still visible eye, the pallor of his skin, and the clear exhaustion that plagued his son's features. He quirked his eyebrow.

"And,what are you doing up at this hour?" He scolded, his voice light, but still holding the intimidating tone of a father reprimanding his child. Donatello smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in an obvious sign of discomfort. Though, this had not been the first (and certainly not the last) time the rat master had had to chastise this particular son for being awake at ungodly hours of the night, he could not help but feel a growing sense of concern for the child.

Something felt...wrong about his son. An unexplainable shift within him. The nervousness and anxiety practically radiated off of him in waves, an aura of fear, of paranoia and dread hanging thickly in the air around him. Externally, the turtle appeared to be fine, though, more tired than usual, but the aged father could sense a storm bubbling in the young terrapin's mind, noticed subtle quirks that had appeared within the last few days. The quick glances behind his back, as if having seen something unsettling at the edge of his vision, like he could feel something there that no one else did. The unusual onslaught of drowsiness that, on any other given day, Donatello could easily overcome as an experienced insomniac. His son's uneasiness almost seemed to infect the entire household, along with an unnatural chill to the air. Though, Splinter could not deny that he had sensed something strange residing in the underground lair, as soon as he began to acknowledge its presence, the feeling would vanish instantly, leaving him confused and questioning whether what he felt had been real or imaginary. He was startled as he realized this was all somewhat familiar to him. But, why?

He shook his head. He would worry about that later. Right now, he had to focus on the issue at hand. He let out a sigh, before smiling down at his son, and glancing at the wrappings that hid the left side of his son's face from view. "Since both of us are already awake, why don't we go remove these dreadful bandages. I believe we have all heard enough pirate jokes to last us a lifetime."

Donatello smiled at his father gratefully.

* * *

"Today, we will be learning about balance." Splinter's cane clacked against the carpeted floor as he paced in front of the four turtles. "Not just of the body, but of the mind, as well."

Behind the aged rat, standing tall and erect, bamboo stalks of varying heights and girth littered one whole side of the dojo, making it appear as if a forest had suddenly sprung up from the floor beneath their feet. Without another word, the master ninja swiftly flipped up into the air, his body arching gracefully as he landed lightly atop one of the taller stalks. Retaining perfect balance, and not so much as shifting the pole from its placement, Splinter crouched low, crossing one leg over the other as he shifted all his weight onto one foot, palms placed together in front of him, and eyes closed in a traditional meditative stance.

"For this lesson, I will be guiding you into a state of deep meditation. Your goal is to maintain balance both physically, and spiritually." He spoke calmly, keeping his eyes closed, and turning his head slightly to the side as he addressed the two humans who lingered on the sidelines. "Ms. O'Neil, Mr. Jones. I believe you may want to sit this one out."

April laughed sheepishly as the two teens lowered themselves to sit on the floor, secretly grateful to be getting out of the obviously difficult activity. Casey smirked up at the rat, tossing his arms behind his head in a relaxed position against the wall. "No problem there, teach." The obnoxious vigilante commented, failing to notice the twitch of the master's ears in annoyance to the teen's disapproving tone.

With that, the four turtles quickly joined their master, their arms instinctively jutting out to the sides in an attempt to remained balanced. Mimicking Splinter's pose, the turtles all closed their eyes as they listened to their sensei's soothing voice guide them.

"Now, follow my lead. You must clear your minds, focus on your breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out..."

Donatello had never been particularly fond of meditation. With his mind a constant whirlwind of ideas and equations, formulas and theories; it was hard for him to just clear it all away, and simply stop thinking. Thinking was his life. His passion, his dreams. His intellect was his most powerful weapon. With it, he could unlock the secrets of the mysterious, find answers to the unanswerable, create unimaginable things with his own two hands. If his situation were different, he knew that one day he could be one of the world's leading scientists, should the humans ever learn to accept them. If only.

The only true reason he partook in the exercise was to please his father. But, even though he had an objective disposition toward it, he could admit that meditation was rather relaxing.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He could feel himself slowly being pulled deeper into the meditative fog, his body relaxing atop the pole of bamboo. He was still a little weak from his injuries. The headaches and drowsiness still plaguing his sleep-deprived body. A majority of the left half of his face had been disfigured by various scrapes and gashes, the scars starting at the top of his head and making their way all down the side of his cheek, circling the eye in reddened streaks. It would heal over time. He was just glad his mask covered it somewhat.

His breathing slowed, keeping in tune with the rhythmic beating of his heart in a calming melody as he descended deeper and deeper into the depths of his conciousness. His surroundings seemed to float away, becoming unimportant in his peaceful trance. His mind becoming blissfully clear and free of thought, yet still able to sense the presence of those around him. He could feel his three brothers next to him, like candle light swaying with the breeze. His sensei like a beacon illuminating their path. And, finally, his two human friends, though dimmer, but powerful all the same.

But, wait. There was something else there, as well. Donatello scrunched his eyebrows as he concentrated harder. Yes, there it was. Another presence, an entity whose location could not be pinpointed. This one was different. Instead of a light or glow like the others, this one felt as if it were pure darkness. There was something foreboding, something sinister about it. Something unnatural, and macabre. He didn't have the slightest clue as to what it could be, but he knew enough to stay away.

Without warning, he was suddenly attacked by a series of strange visions. His breathing quickened as they all came to him at rapid speed, making his head spin, and stomach twist painfully. It was her. The lady in white. She was standing with her back to him, her silky black hair cascading elegantly down her back like the first time he saw her. She slowly began to turn her body, facing him with her head held down. He could see tears streaking down her pale cheeks, dripping down onto her beautiful gown as she took a step towards him. Something was wrong.

She lifted her head up, moving closer and closer, her face becoming clearer. With a strangled gasp, Donatello back onto his shell, clawing at the ground in an attempt to get away as realized what he truly saw. Those weren't tears dribbling down her cheeks, it was her skin.

* * *

Splinter was pulled out of his meditation as he sensed a shift in the atmosphere. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and a heavy sense of dread settled over his chest. He cracked burnt sienna eyes open, glancing at the four turtles before him. Their faces were relaxed, all appearing to be ignorant to the sudden change in the air, except for one. Donatello's form was hunched over, still in the meditative stance, his muscles rigid as he curled into himself tightly. His body trembled violently, his pale skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, and tears sliding unbidden down his scarred cheeks.

Concern instantly swept over the old rat as he watched his second youngest fighting some kind of internal battle. "Donatello?" He called, his voice laced with worry. No reaction came from the purple banded terrapin, his shivers only increasing in strength as the horrifying images continued.

"Donatello, what is wrong?" Splinter called again, gaining the attention of the other occupants in the room. All eyes turned to the intelligent turtle in curiosity, their eyes widening in fear as they caught sight of their distraught brother and friend. His chest heaved as he began hyperventilating, the bamboo beneath him shaking with the movement.

"Donnie?" Mikey's innocent voice echoed around the room as they watched on, not knowing what to do. None of them having a clue what was going on in the poor turtle's mind.

* * *

Flesh melted from bone, dripping down like candle wax. Faster and faster. Pouring down her once beautiful face, while the cowering form of Donatello watched on in horror.

"Join us, Donnie. Join us, Donnie." Her voice came out, sounding like a broken record as she stepped closer and closer. "Join us, Donnie. Join us, Donnie. Join us, Donnie..." She kept repeating over and over, her voice getting deeper as she continued, as if it were dying. She was transforming into something morbid and demonic. Her skin was almost completely gone, the white of bone showing beneath the shredded remains of flesh.

She was closer to him now, too close. Close enough to reach out and grab him, dragging him back to whatever pits of hell she came from. The monstrous figure towered over him, curling its fingers around like claws, arms outstretched as she lunged at him like prey. Its voice came out growling and animalistic with a final shout.

"Join us!"

"Nooooooo!"

With his shout, Donatello was suddenly snapped out of his vision into reality, startling everyone present. His arms pinwheeled as he lost his balance, the stalk tipping backwards, and sending him sprawling onto his shell. The poles all crashed together, tumbling down one after the other. Splinter and the other turtles all went crashing to the floor with shouts of surprise, caught off guard with the abrupt turn of events.

Donatello was unaware to all of this as he stared, wide eyed, up at the ceiling. He panted heavily, his mind still in a panic. The images replayed themselves over and over again in his head, making his gut clench. He felt sick.

"Donatello? My son, answer me." He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts at the sound of his sensei's concerned voice. Glancing around, he saw the figures of his friends and family all huddled around him, staring at him with worry sparkling in their eyes. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment, realizing what he had just done.

"Dude, are you okay?"

He nodded, clamping his eyes shut tightly as he began to sit up. A wave of nausea hit him, almost knocking him back down. He felt a dozen pair of hands on his body, helping him ease his way to his feet, and keeping him upright as he began to sway. The world wouldn't stop spinning, his nausea rising. Swallowing in an attempt to keep his breakfast down, Donatello cracked his eyes open with the best reassuring smile he could manage. Though, he knows that probably wasn't very good.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fi-" He cut himself off, eyes widening as he abruptly shook off their grips, hands flying over his mouth. He rushed out the doors without another word, quickly making his way to the nearest bathroom where he promptly emptied his stomach.

As the sounds of his heaving reached the group left in the dojo, they all glanced at each other. Their faces all held the same expressions of concern, all wondering the same thing.

What just happened?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello groovy people of FanFiction! I apologize for my absence. I seem to do that a lot, don't I? I'm sorry! I don't mean to! I really do hate it that I always leave right in the middle of stories for extended periods of time, but I've been busy preparing for college. Filling out scholarships, trying to decide on a major, filling out applications, and all that jazz. But, I'm going to try and do better, and actually make some time to write. **

**Anyway, I would like to thank everybody who hasn't given up hope on this story. Seriously, you're all great. And, I would especially like to thank Pilyarquitect for messaging me. You got me all inspired and stuff, so I sat down at my computer and BOOM, this happened. Thank you so much!**

**I know it's shorter than the other chapters (I'm a bit rusty), but I'll have the story more planned out later on. **

**Tell me what you think!**

* * *

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe ou-

Donatello's body heaved as he emptied his stomach for what felt like the thousandth time. His arms trembled, straining to support him as he continued to hunch over the toilet, skin slick with perspiration. He felt awful. Exhausted. His head wouldn't stop spinning, around and around till he was certain that he was going to pass out. He clutched his stomach tightly, the sharp, stinging pain from the onslaught of nausea making him want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and just lie there forever.

Shell, he hated getting sick.

All his life, he was always the one who got sick the worst. His immune system didn't hold a candle to that of his brothers' and father's. It was especially bad in the winter months. Though it could be beautiful, the cold, dry air of winter always seemed to leave of path of frigid death in its wake, which only intensified in the damp chill of the concrete sewers, leaving the poor turtle to shake and moan as powerful coughs wracked his small body. The young terrapin even remembered his Sensei telling him of a time when it had gotten really bad. He was practically at death's door, and the old rat feared he would not survive through the night. The thought terrified him.

The purple banded turtle tried desperately to focus on his rapid breathing, attempting to placate his heaving lungs as he gasped for precious air. With one last flush of the toilet, Donnie leaned back, shivering when his shell rested upon the cool porcelain of the tub, and let his eyes slide shut.

He could still see those horrid images replaying over and over again in his head. His face scrunched up as he remembered the terror that coursed through him. Seeing the lady slowly turns towards him. The red stains popping up one her dress. Flesh dripping down her pale cheeks. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He sucked in a breath, an icy chill snaking through his body with the memory. Electricity jolted down his spine, swirling through his limbs, and stopping at his fingertips as a cold pit settled in his aching stomach. He noticed how cold the air was, his breath came out in wispy clouds of white, and he wondered how the temperature had dropped so drastically. Of course, the lair had been getting colder and colder for days now.

Was the heat broken? Did this have anything to do with the dreams?

He desperately searched his mind for answers. He was supposed to be a genius, "Mr. Fix-it", the "Answer-guy". But, he had nothing. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, or why these things were happening. There was no logical reason for any of it. None of it added up. Why the visions? Why the anxiety? The fear? The paranoia? In the back of his mind he thought he could see. Could make perfect sense of everything, and all he had to do was grab on to it so he could understand. But, it was far beyond his reach, and he was left scrabbling to grasp these fragile threads of thought that just ended up getting tangled up in knots until he could no longer make sense of them.

He didn't know what to do. And, for some reason, he couldn't help but feel like this was some kind of omen.

Dread twisted uneasily in his chest. He scrubbed a hand down his flushed face as he slowly stood up on trembling legs, and carefully made his way over to the sink. Attempting to avoid the disfigured reflection of his sickly form in the mirror, Donnie quickly rinsed his mouth out to get the acrid taste off of his tongue.

"Hey, Donnie? Are you okay?"

The muffled voice of his younger brother came through the closed door, concern evident in his tone. Donatello silently cursed himself for taking so long. He hated making his family worry, especially when it was over his own well being. This caused the purple banded turtle to get into the nasty habit of not saying anything or trying to hide his symptoms when he was feeling ill.

Clearly he had not done a good job.

"Yeah-" He paused to clear his throat as his voice cracked. "Yeah, I'm fine, Mikey. I'll be out in a minute." He responded, turning back to the sink and turning the water off, before reaching out to open the door.

Wide blue eyes framed in orange met him as he exited the bathroom. The usually smiling face of his only little brother was turned downcast in concern as he saw the flushed face of his older brother. The dark circles peeking out from under the purple mask had become more apparent in the last couple of days, clearly indicating he had not been getting enough sleep, and now they contrasted greatly with the sickly paleness of his skin.

Seeing the worry in the orange clad turtle's eyes, Donatello gave his brother a small, reassuring smile. Though, Mikey could sense that it was somewhat forced. He didn't like the look in his taller brother's eyes. They seemed...scared. An almost haunted look shining in those red irises.

"Don't worry, Mikey. I'm fine." His voice reflected his exhaustion plainly as he spoke. Michelangelo raised his brow slightly, giving the bo wielding turtle a suspicious look. Donnie let out a sigh, reaching a three fingered hand out to rest lightly on his brother's shoulder. "Really."

Michelangelo let out a sigh of his own, his body deflating a bit as he relaxed somewhat. "If you say so." He said, a hint of doubt still laced in his tone.

With his arm wrapped around the youngest's shoulders, Donnie led his brother over to the common area, wincing slightly when he caught sight of the concerned gazes of the rest of his family and his two human friends. He was going to have to come up with some sort of explanation.

All the while, he was certain he could feel eyes boring into the back of his skull.

* * *

**Again, please tell me what you think. It would be greatly appreciated. **


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